


Servant of Heaven

by SixBucksToHisName



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-26 12:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6240061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixBucksToHisName/pseuds/SixBucksToHisName
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heaven went through great lengths to secure Dean's destiny as Michael's true vessel. However, Chuck...nay...God ensured something else: the coming of the Righteous Man. With Dean dedicated in taking the fight to Lucifer and his army, Team Free Will stumble upon discoveries of Dean's other destiny. As a man so eager to screw destiny in the face, Dean learns that sometimes there are certain roles that one has to accept. After all, the righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, you've stumbled upon this story. And you wonder, should you read it or not? Perhaps I can help you make that decision. This is a Dean story. For those of you who always wanted a Myth-Arc for Dean, this story may be for you. For those of you who wished SPN writers expanded more on the Dean is the righteous man storyline, you should read this. For those who wanted Dean to have a bigger role in the finale of the apocalypse...keep reading. Before I get carried away and spoiler everything, hopefully I can let the story itself convince you to keep reading.  
> As a note, this story is divergent from canon after 5.18, Point of No Return.

**Servant of Heaven**

**Prologue**

Takes place after the events of 5x18: _Point of No Return_

_‘Can a mortal be more righteous than God? Can even a strong man be more pure than his Maker?’ –Job 4:17_

 

                Chuck’s right hand trembled. The ice cubes clattered against the glass he was holding as he raised it to his lips. Watered-down scotch burned his throat before he slammed the glass back onto the table. He rubbed his hand across his face, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He stared at the screen, at the last sentence he’s written:

_Pushed to the edge of his breaking point, Dean responded in a wrecked voice, “Damn it, Zachariah. Stop it, please. I’ll do it.”_

                Chuck had already seen Dean say yes, yet he couldn’t bear write that part down. His stomach churned as the past visions replay in his head:

                _“I rebelled for this?! So that you could surrender to them?” Castiel yelled, his heart twisting in agony. He fought and stormed his way through Hell, only to find Dean broken and battered. This time, he fought and waged a war against Heaven, and still he would fail to reach Dean in time. He slammed Dean against the brick wall, punching, hoping to spark that beautiful light inside of the Righteous Man. But how could you save a man who didn’t want to be saved?_

                _Why was Sam doing this? He should let Dean rot in the panic room. He gave Dean a long look. “Because...”_ I need to know that I haven’t lost you _._ I need to know that you can beat Michael. I need to know that you haven’t given up. _“You’re still my big brother.”_

                _Bobby stared incredulous at Dean. “What the hell happened to you?” Where was that give-them-hell attitude? He knew Dean wasn’t perfect. He’d seen the boy fallen so many times, seen him given up, but Dean always found that fight inside him. Dean always rose back onto his feet...but this...wasn’t a man grieving, or in desperation, or despair. Before Bobby stood a broken man_.

                Chuck grabbed his glass once again and took a swig. Nothing but melted ice. He groaned and went in search for his bottle. So many possibilities to happen in that trap that Zachariah set for Dean. Chuck had only caught snippets and flashes, but nothing concrete that he could grab on to.

                “Come on, Dean. I chose you for a reason...” Chuck muttered. “Alastair lied. Your father was never the righteous man.” He chuckled bitterly. “He was self-righteous, driven by hatred and revenge. Much like your brother.” He slumped down into his seat, trying to push back the memories of his _other_ life.

                He was Chuck now. He gave up his past life a long time ago. The Bible used to call him righteous and wrathful and all-fearing. He was no longer that.

                “You’re flawed, Dean. I know that. But I also know your heart.  Your love for humanity is greater than yourself. Your love for family… You’re not afraid to be alone, Dean. A part of you that you’re unaware of wants to be equally loved by how much you love others…We’re alike in that aspect.”

                The recent vision of Dean staring at his hemorrhaging brothers flashed across his mind. The vision of Dean pleading out in Bobby’s junkyard, pleading for _him_ a few weeks prior still haunted Chuck.

                “There’s not a dark empty inside you, Dean. Famine’s powers just didn’t affect you. Just like how you didn’t fall to War’s delusions. The powers of the Horsemen don’t affect you!” He found his bottle of scotch and chugged down the contents.

                Another past vision resurfaced:

                _“The whore can only be killed by a true Servant of Heaven,” Castiel told Dean_.

                Chuck groaned and massaged his temples.

_“This is why my team’s going win. You’re the great vessel? You’re pathetic, self-hating, and faithless. It’s the end of the world. And you’re just going sit back and watch it happen,” the Whore of Babylon sneered._

_Dean grabbed the cypress stake and jammed it into her chest. “Don’t be so sure, whore.”_

                Chuck stumbled against the desk as a pounding pain exploded in his head. He dropped the bottle and it clashed to the floor. He fell to his knees and grabbed his temple.

                _“Michael’s not going to kill me,” Zachariah scoffed._

_“No,” Dean said, as an angel-blade slipped down the sleeve of his jacket and into his palm. “But I am.” He jammed the blade up through Zachariah’s chin and into his head. Dean glared hard as the dick angel’s white light exploded within Zachariah’s vessel. The blast only sent Dean sprawling back into the corner of the room._

                Chuck gasped as he jolted back to the present.

                Dean’s eyes…

                They weren’t reflecting the white light of Zachariah’s true form, they were glowing on its own.

                Dean’s eyes glowed opalescent.

                Chuck’s raised a fist to his mouth and released a mix of a laugh and a cry.

                Dean survived the blast of an angel nova.

Chuck sighed in relief.

                Heaven may have gone through great lengths to secure Dean’s destiny as Michael’s true vessel, but Chuck...

                Nay, _God_ ensured something else:

                The coming of the Righteous Man.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of Point of No Return ep, Michael confronts Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've decided to keep reading. Sweet. I hope I can keep your attention. SPN writers tended to be a bit inconsistent with angel blades and who can kill what. In this story, as per Uriel stated in SPN Season Four, the only thing that can kill an angel is another angel is fact. Also, angel blades are infused with the angel's grace.  
> Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter One**

_“Too many people overvalue what they are not and undervalue what they are.”_

_– Malcolm S. Forbes_

                Dean laid against the hood of the Impala, gazing at the blanket of stars across the night sky. The sight of it was more breathtaking out at Bobby’s place than anywhere else he’s been in the States. He used to pull over some nights during long road trips and spend hours watching the stars. It was something he did with Sam, but recently, after he returned from his stint in Hell, he’d been star-gazing in solitude.  He’d found more comfort in that.

                Funny, it was one of the things he found that he’d missed doing when he came back.

                Since Cas raised Dean from perdition, Dean felt the heavy burden of the world upon his shoulders. When he stared at the stars, he’d felt small, insufficient, worthless, and somehow that made the burden easier to carry. After all, he was one unimportant little man. He’d always wondered why Heaven fought so hard to pull him out of Hell. Dean was already on his way into becoming the very monster he hunted, a black-eyed demon. He deserved to stay in Hell. Yet they yanked him out because they had work for him. Or was it because he was Michael’s vessel? It was one excuse after another with the angels. Sometimes, Dean wondered if nobody knew the exact reason why Dean was freed and was just waiting for them to toss him back into the pit.

                He lifted the bottle of Jack Daniels and took a sip. There wasn’t much left and he wanted to savor as much as he could. He wanted this feel-good buzz to last.

                Sam and Bobby had both fallen asleep in the midst of researching how to defeat Lucifer...and Michael.

                Anger twisted in Dean’s gut. Adam was gone, and he knew that Michael was probably in possession of that kid. Dean was so focused on getting Sam out, he’d forgotten to ensure Adam’s safety.

                That was now another person he’d failed.

                He still hadn’t heard back from Castiel. It’d hurt to discover that Castiel lost all faith in Dean. It hurt more than he thought. He’d been waiting so long for Cas to realize that Dean wasn’t the right person to believe in, for Cas to realize that Dean just wasn’t worth fighting for. He’d finally proven Cas wrong. It ached and twisted in his heart. Why did it bother him more to lose Cas’ faith than Sam?  He wished desperately for Cas to look at him that way again before Dean screwed it all up. He didn’t realize how much it made these dark days easier to mosey through by having someone believe so wholeheartedly in you.

                Hell, it made Dean like himself just a slight bit more.

                Dean had let down many people in his life.

                Letting down Cas hurt like a bitch.

                Why?

                He’d never admit it, but Castiel scared the crap out of him when they first met. Despite that it took Dean a while to trust him, Cas quickly grew into his strange, yet quirky friend. He tried so hard to get Cas to think for himself, to see the bigger picture during their first year knowing each other. He didn’t know why he bothered. He chuckled as he remembered a secret Cas told him after only a couple weeks of knowing each other, one that Cas asked Dean never to tell anyone else, a promise that Dean kept to this day.

                _I’m not a…hammer as you say. I have questions, I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore._

                The confession didn’t exactly shock Dean. What surprised him was the amount of trust Castiel had placed in him.

                An Angel of the Lord placing unconditional trust in the lowest of men.

                The more Dean learned about angels and Heaven, the more he came to realize how much Cas risked telling Dean that secret. Maybe that’s why Dean pressed Cas so hard to do the right thing, because he knew that the angel had doubts.

                He groaned. And now he’d lost that trust, that unwavering faith.

                Add that to Dean’s long-ass list of failures.

                Dean froze.

                There was a slight change in the air, so brief that Dean almost missed it. He set his bottle down on the hood and glanced about.

                “Cas?” Dean called out. He slid off the hood and the gravel crunched under his biker boots. His gut told him that it wasn’t Cas. He usually heard the ruffle of Castiel’s wings before Cas arrived. For the other angels, it was always a change in the air, like the stillness before a storm. He pulled the angel blade from inside his jacket, his eyes scanned Bobby’s junkyard.

                “Well, I can’t say I am not surprised to see you hiding back here.”

                The hair on Dean’s neck stood and he spun on his heels. His grip on the blade tightened. “Michael,” he growled out.

                Michael stood before him, in Adam’s body. The kid looked the exact same as Dean last saw him, minus the blood and with a more intense look upon his features.

                He pointed a finger at Michael. “You get the hell out of him.”

                There was a tug on the corner of Michael’s lips. “All you have to say is yes, and I’ll be more than happy to relinquish control of this vessel.”

                “His name is Adam, and you dickbags put him through enough crap.”

                “It was a result of your stubbornness,” Michael said. “Then again, that’s why I’m here...” He smiled knowingly. “You were going to say yes.”

                Dean exhaled a sharp breath. Some part of him was still tempted to. “Well, I’ve sobered up.”

                The lines on Michael’s forehead creased. “I don’t understand. You are still inebriated...”  

                Dean rolled his eyes. And he thought Cas was bad. “How did you find me anyway? I thought I was hidden from all angels.”

                Michael tapped the side of his temple. “From Adam’s memories.”

                “And what false promises did you offer him to get him to say yes?”

                “I only promised him the truth, just as I will promise you. Say yes to me, and you’ll be reunited with your loved ones.”

                “Yeah, save me the speech, pal,” Dean said. “I’ve heard this before. You angels all sing the same tune. I’m going to say no, and then you’ll threaten to harm Bobby and Sam, hell, you may even torture me...”

                “You were going to say yes before. You can’t change your mind,” Michael said.

                “Tough,” Dean said through gritted teeth. He braced himself, getting ready for whatever Michael was about to dish out next. He burrowed his brows as he saw the archangel slightly tilt his head in a way that was similar to Castiel’s.

                “I do not understand.”

                “It’s called free will, asswipe. Besides, I was only playing Zachariah, I was using you as a diversion to kill that rat bastard.” Okay, that was a slight lie, but Michael didn’t need to know that. Dean was saying yes...but he meant what he said to Sam, he wasn’t going to let his brother down.

                Michael’s features grew dark and somehow his presence seemed to tower over Dean, even though he hadn’t moved. Something shifted and Dean felt as if there was something hovering over him.  “You don’t have a choice in the matter!”

                Dean only grinned. “That’s what you don’t get. I do.” His heart pattered hard and he wondered if Michael could sense Dean’s growing anxiety and fear. What if the douchebag tried to hurt Sammy or Bobby?

                Michael took a small step forward.

                Dean raised the angel blade in a defense position and glowered hard. He wasn’t going down without a fight.

                “I’m going to drag you into Heaven and when I’m done with you...” Michael stopped, eyes locked on the angel blade. He titled his head further at it, inspecting it.

                Dean wanted to use this distraction as a means to plunge this blade into Michael’s heart, but his instincts told him to stay put.

                “That blade...”

                Dean flicked a quick glance at it. He had scooped it up after Castiel had dropped it back at the warehouse, he’d loaned it to Sam to use on Zachariah, and when that failed, he used it on the douchebag himself. Wait, Sam had dropped that on the floor when he tried to attack Zachariah with it…how did Dean get a hold of it? He filtered through his memories, trying to remember when he scooped up the blade.

                Michael’s brows creased. “You have an angel blade?” He sounded so confused, and yet terrified at the same.

                “It’s Castiel’s, you bastard.”

                “No...” Michael said. A blade slipped down from the sleeve of his green jacket and he held up an angel blade. “This is Castiel’s. I found it at the green room where Zachariah had summoned me, I’d assumed Castiel...” His eyes widened. “He did kill Zachariah, didn’t he?”

                “I’m sorry, but I have to take credit for that one. After all, I did promise him I would stab him in the face and I had to uphold it,” Dean said.

                “That was _you?_ ” Michael exclaimed, incredulously. “That is not possible.”

                This time Dean was confused. What wasn’t possible? That Dean made the promise or that he killed Zachariah?

                Michael’s wide eyes seemed to see Dean for the first time. “Many humans and demons have tried to eliminate us over the years with our own blades. None of them succeeded.”

                Dean swallowed. He didn’t like the sound of that. He wasn’t special. It was just a lucky fluke. Sam’s the special one. “Yeah, well, maybe they didn’t try hard enough.”

                For the first time, fear entered Michael’s features. He took a cautious step back. “Only an angel can kill an angel. That’s the way it’s always been.”

                “Maybe you guys need to get your facts straight.”

                Michael made a strange clicking sound with his tongue. “I can’t make out the grace that’s the sword is a part of.”

                Dean blinked. “What?”

                “I knew this blade was Castiel’s because it’s infused with a part of his grace.” Another blade slipped into Michael’s other hand. “This archangel blade is infused with mine. No one can used it but me. Your blade...it’s not infused with grace.” He scrutinized the blade, his face concentrating so hard that it looked like he was constipated. Michael gasped. “That’s not possible.”

                “You keep saying that,” Dean grumbled.

                “Your blade, it has the makings of an angel blade, yet...instead of grace, it’s infused with your soul.”

                Soul? Dean didn’t like the sound of that. Why was this blade infused with his soul? A sharp memory of his right arm tingling with warmth surfaced, the need to kill Zachariah, to ensure justice for the crimes Zachariah had committed and wanted to commit against humanity, to protect mankind from Zachariah’s dream of his so-called Paradise. A blade had slipped down into his hand. Dean never thought twice about where it came from, just that he had a blade. Did it just materialized into…No. No. Michael’s tricking him. Dean’s not special.

                “Don’t play games with me, Michael,” Dean said. “I’m not falling for that.”

                “Games? Oh. Why do you think I would be lying to you about this?” Michael peered a bit closer at Dean, as if trying to read his soul.

                This time, Dean stepped back. _What’s the matter? You don’t think you deserved to be saved._ Castiel had read him in a heartbeat.

                “Interesting,” Michael muttered. “I have never noticed this before. Your soul shines differently than most humans.”

                “My soul?” Dean chuckled dryly. “Right. Trust me. My soul is a big dark nothing.”

                “I never noticed because the part of Castiel’s grace that’s connected to you is shielding it from me. It gets defensive when I try to peer into your soul.”

                The handprint on Dean’s left shoulder tingled at the remark. “What do you mean connected?”

                “When Castiel raised you from Hell, he used his grace to bind you back into your body. There will always be a part of his grace within you, but it doesn’t explain your blade and how you were able to kill Zachariah.” Michael’s lips pursed. “Who are you, Dean Winchester?”

                “Look, can we stop with the psychoanalyzing and get to the part where you get the hell out of here?” Dean raised his blade again, this time in a threatening manner.

                Michael heaved out a sigh. “I have to fight my brother, Dean. It’s my destiny. You of all people should understand that.”

                Dean laughed bitterly. “And you should know that I went to hell for my brother.”

                “And what did he give you in return?” Michael snapped.

                Dean flinched. Why did that always bother him?

                “He broke his promise to you. He chose to become an abomination...”

                “Careful, that’s my little brother you’re talking about there.”

                Michael pressed on. “He chose a demon over you. Tell me, Dean, does your brother know the exact depths of your sacrifice?”

                Hurt prickled across Dean’s chest and he couldn’t breathe. Sammy is his brother. He would continue to give Sam everything, even if he didn’t get anything back. That’s what family was. “Shut up, Michael. I didn’t exactly honor my father’s sacrifice to save me.”

                “Of course you did. You honored his last words.”

                Dean’s nostril flared. “Don’t you say it…”

                But to Michael, Dean was nothing but a puzzle to be put together and solved. “He asked you to save Sammy, and that nothing else mattered, if you couldn’t, you might have to kill him. Those words forced you to make the deal to save your brother…because nothing else mattered, which meant...”

                “Michael,” Dean growled.

                “Which meant _you_ didn’t matter.”

                The air rushed out of his lungs. Why did everyone always had to remind Dean that? He knew that. Hell, Alastair constantly reminded him of that in Hell.

                “Your father was wrong, Dean.”

                “Look, I know I’m expendable. I know I’m worthless. I know nothing I do matters. But this…saying no to you. That matters,” Dean snarled. “My free will is _not_ an illusion. I choose to say no.”

                “You’ll change your mind again. Because in your heart, you know it’s your destiny to say yes.”

                “So what if it is? Aren’t you tired of destiny making your choices for you? Or are you such a big coward to choose for yourself that you let destiny control you like a sad pathetic little puppet.”

                Dean swore he saw a flash of wings behind Michael. “I’m no one’s puppet!” he screamed.

                “Then prove me wrong. Help me find out a way to take down Lucifer without wiping out half the planet. And if there’s, honest to god, no other way...then maybe I’ll say yes.”

                Michael’s shoulders relaxed as if a weight was being lowered. “Are you proposing a deal?”

                “We can argue here until our faces turn blue and Lucifer finally destroys the planet. I promise you, if there’s no other option, if it’s a Hail Mary...I’ll say yes.”

                “There is no other way,” Michael said.

                “Maybe not, but you can’t exactly prove that, can you?” Dean said.

                Michael placed his blade back up his right sleeve, but kept Castiel’s out. “I don’t like this preposition. But if it’s the easier path to ensure our destiny, then I’ll accept.”

                Dean prayed that they would find another option. That he wouldn’t have to say yes. He may be expendable, but this planet wasn’t. He wasn’t going to expend people’s lives to win this war. But if there truly was _no_ other option, Dean needed to ensure he would be able to say yes. He didn’t want to live out that future in 2014 where all the angels left and Dean was lying dead in a graveyard.

                “I’ll be more willing to agree in the future, if you get into my good graces,” Dean said.

                Michael studied Dean in suspicion. “How so?”

                “Find Cas. He banished himself so that we could save Adam…” He scoffed staring at Adam’s vessel. So much for that. “I need to know he’s okay.”

                Michael glanced at Cas’ blade. “I should be able to hone into him by using his own grace to find him. I’ll bring him here.”

                “Okay.”

                “Dean...I expect you to uphold your deal.”

                “And I expect you to uphold yours,” Dean shot back.

                Michael clamped his mouth shut. He still seemed conflicted, but pleased as if he knew he’d already won. Self-arrogant prick.

                “I shall return with Castiel.” With one flap of his wings, Michael disappeared.

                Dean slumped back against the hood of the Impala. He glanced down at his angel blade. “There’s nothing special about me,” he muttered. He tossed the blade into the junkyard and grabbed his bottle of bourbon, downing the rest of the contents down his throat.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you ever heard of the angels talk about the Righteous Man?”  
> Oh, has Dean heard of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since On a Head of a Pin (4.16), Dean being the righteous man and breaking the first seal never surfaced again. Well, apart from that brief comment Dean made of breaking the first seal in Fallen Idols (5.05). That never sat right with me. Breaking the first seal was a part of hell for Dean, and I think since Sam said (albeit he was under a Siren Song in 4.14) that Dean was weak for whining about hell and feeling sorry for himself, Dean never mentioned Hell to his brother again. People who have low self-worth often attach themselves to every single negative thing, either said or thought about them, even if it isn't true, and they take it to heart. In this story, Dean never told Sam about breaking the first seal. To me, I think it's part of his character. Anyway, that's my reasoning!  
> Thank you for reading! :)

**Chapter Two**

_"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness.”—Samuel L. Jackson, Pulp Fiction_

 

                “Dean.”

                There was a sharp poke at his side and Dean jolted awake. He rapidly blinked his eyes and smacked his mouth. His eyesight cleared to catch a portrait of his brother Sam, brown hair hanging over his eyes. Dean groaned and dropped his head back onto the bed...

                Wow. His pillow was hard. He inspected it to realize he was lying on the hood of the Impala. Blood pounded in his head. He groaned and stared back up at a bemused Sam.

                “Sleep well?”

                “Shut up,” Dean muttered.

                “Bobby’s going to be pissed when he finds out you finished off that last bottle of Jack.”

                Dean rose to a sitting position, wincing at the bright light of the sun. It must nearly noon by now. Had he dreamed that whole scenario with Michael last night?

                “Bobby thinks he found something, come on.”

                Dean waved Sam away, giving his brother the whole ‘I’ll be there’ glare. After he relieved himself and grabbed a couple slices of bread, he joined Bobby and Sam in the living room.

                Bobby tapped his pen on the side of the armrest of his wheelchair, brows set in a strong V as he read a session in the book.

                “Whatcha got?” Dean asked as he slumped down in the chair across from Bobby’s desk. Sam was at the other one, pouring through some random ancient books. Dean took a big bite of wheat bread and tried to force the dry piece down. He’d kill for some bacon right now.

                “Nice of you to join us, princess,” Bobby said. He pointed at the book with his pen. “Rufus loaned me a couple books a while back, some ancient manuscripts of the New Testament. They have different chapters in their testament than what we have in our current Bible.”

                “Hmm-hmm,” Dean said, still trying to wake up.

                “Have you ever heard of the angels talk about the Righteous Man?”

                Dean choked on the bread.

                _And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break._

                Oh, has Dean heard of him.

                The last time he’d talked about this was with Castiel in the hospital after the incident with Alastair, when Dean found out that he broke the first seal. How could he tell Sam that? That his brother was right, that Dean was weak, and being weak was the reason the whole apocalypse started in the first place. Heck, he never even told Bobby.

                “Uh, I think Cas mentioned him once…” Dean said.

                Sam perked up at this. “Do you remember what they said about him?”

                Dean shook his head as an answer. “So, uh...” he tossed the remaining bread on Bobby’s desk which earned him a look of disdain. “What about this guy?”    

                “There’s a small section of him, in the Book of Revelations. It’s stated that the righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it,” Bobby said.

                Dean’s heart thumped hard against his chest.  Cas had told Dean that exact thing.

                “Finish the apocalypse?” Dean asked, feigning dumb. He was right back in the hospital. He wasn’t the right man for the job. He scoffed. “How?”

                “It’s written that he can snuff out the light of the morning star.”

                Dean cocked a brow. “Lucifer? I thought only angels could kill angels.” Great, now he was echoing his conversation with Michael. If that happened. Did it? “I mean, that’s why the Colt didn’t work on him…”

                Sam faced him. “Looks like the angels were wrong about that. You killed Zachariah.”

                Right. Dean rubbed his forehead. “Okay. What else do they say about this…righteous man?”

                Sam beamed. “That he will unite the forces of Heaven and Hell and lead them together to drive out the wicked.”

                “Are you fanboying over him?” Dean teased.

                Sam’s brows shot up. “What? No.”

                Bobby chuckled. “If he exists, he’ll be worth trying to find.”

                Dean leaned back and folded him arms across his chest. “Recruit him to team free will?” He had to get them off this idea. He didn’t know if all the angels thought Dean as the righteous man, but Alastair and Castiel had seemed pretty damn adamant that it was Dean. “I don’t know guys. It’s a stretch. I mean, from the sounds of it, it seemed like he was the one who started the apocalypse. How do you know if it wasn’t on purpose so he could get all the glory of being the hero?”

                Sam huffed a sigh. “Yeah. I’m trying to figure out how the first seal was broken. Maybe he was like me and was manipulated into doing it.”

                No, he broke, and turned off the path of righteous. He doesn’t even deserve that name. Dean rose to his feet. “I don’t know, Sammy. Sounds like another dead end to me.”

                Sam dropped his hands on top of his book. “Dean, why are you still acting like this? I thought you said we were going to take the fight to them.”

                “And you want to waste time trying to find this so-called righteous guy? We don’t have the luxury of that...” Dean tensed.

                Sam and Bobby shared a glance.

                “Dean…what is...”

                Dean spun around, angel blade in hand, the edge pressed against Michael’s throat.

                Michael’s eyes were wide in shock. He opened his mouth to say something but Dean beat him to it.

                “Cas!” he exclaimed.

                Michael had Castiel’s left arm draped over his shoulder, using it to help hold Castiel up. The rebellious angel’s head was drooped against his chest, his breathing even.

                Dean grabbed Cas, inspecting him. His skin was pale and clammy. “What’s wrong with him?”

                “He was nearly depleted of his...”

                Michael was interrupted as Sam slammed him against the wall, demon knife in hand.

                Dean grunted as most of Castiel’s dead weight transferred to him. “Sam!” He dropped the angel blade to get a better grip around Cas.

                Michael disappeared and reappeared behind Bobby, looking slightly annoyed. “Of his grace,” he continued. “I healed him as much as I could, he’s should be fully recover...”

                _Bam!_

                Michael blinked. He merely glanced down at the bullet wound in his chest. He flicked a gaze at Bobby who held a pistol in his hand, aimed solely at him. He slowly turned to Dean as if wondering why these insects were bothering him.

                Sam charged for Michael again.

                “Sam! Bobby! Would you guys relax?” Dean yelled. Cas’ legs slumped further to the ground and Dean grunted as he tried to hold him upright. “He’s on our side.”

                Sam stumbled to a halt, chest heaving.

                Bobby cocked a brow. “Whatta mean?”

                Dean dragged Castiel to the bed near the window, where only a couple days before Adam had been using and they’d been guarding him to ensure he didn’t say yes. So much for that. He laid Cas on the bed and turned to them. “Michael and I...have an agreement.”

                Sam scoffed. “I thought we moved passed you saying yes.”

                “We did. I’m not saying yes,” Dean said.

                “For now...” Michael added.

                Dean glowered at the archangel. “Not helping.”

                “Dean, why is he here and not smiting us?” Sam said, jerking the tip of the demon knife toward Michael.

                “I’m more concerned of what moronic deal you’ve got yourself into now,” Bobby grumbled.

                Dean’s mouth worked, unsure of where to start.

                Michael beat him to it. “I am here to help your pitiable little team find a way to defeat my brother and stop the apocalypse without resorting to using my true vessel. I am certain we will not find anything, but I know doing this will eventually prove to Dean that saying yes is the only option.”

                Dean grounded his teeth. “Not exactly how I would’ve phrased it.”

                “You can’t say yes!” Sam cried.

                “I’m not!” Dean growled. “We’re going to find another way.”

                Bobby shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to have an extra set of eyes. And he did bring our angel back.”

                Sam’s nostrils flared. “Bobby! You can’t agree with this!”

                “I’m not saying that I am. I don’t like this one bit, but this is the apocalypse, boy. Having an archangel might help us ensure we’re looking into the right thing.”

                Dean snapped his fingers.  “Exactly.”

                “Oh, you’re still an idjit. If I weren’t strapped into this damn chair, I’d smack you upside the head, because maybe that would finally knock some ounce of sense into you.”

                Geez, Dean can never get any support, can he?

                Sam’s shoulder slumped in defeat, he eyed Michael suspiciously.

                Dean turned to check on Castiel. The angel was still asleep and Dean pulled the blanket to cover him. “Are you sure he’s okay?” Dean’s never see Cas sleeping before. He almost looked…human.

                “He barely had a speck of grace when I found him. It took quite a while to revive him to his original strength, every angel’s grace is different,” Michael said.

                “He would fight you to the death to make sure that I don’t say yes. I need your word that you won’t harm him, or the deal is off,” Dean said. He turned and locked eyes with Michael, daring him to disagree.

                “Castiel is an abomination. He chose you over the will of God. He is a traitor to his family and God.” Michael broke Dean’s gaze to look at Castiel with empathy or respect, Dean couldn’t decipher it. “However, he did it all to protect you, Dean. For that, I will spare him.”

                “Well, that’s good…I guess,” Dean said.

                “Is Adam in there?” Sam suddenly asked. He was still watching Michael like a hawk.

                “Sam...” Dean started.

                “Is he?”

                “He is resting dormant within me. He is not aware of what’s happening,” Michael answered.

                “You shouldn’t be using him like this,” Sam said. “You guys fed him all this crap about him being the one to save the world...”

                “It was not lies. We told him the truth,” Michael said.

                Sam shook his head in amusement. “You used him to get Dean to say yes. You’re still using him.”

                “For the last time, Sam,” Dean bellowed out. “Nobody is saying yes! Don’t we have bigger problems at hand? Shouldn’t we be trying to figure out another way to stop Lucifer? Because I meant what I said. Death and Pestilence are still out there. Lucifer’s army grows, and we have no idea what he’s planning next.”

                Sam had the grace to look sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck and slumped back into the chair he sat in earlier. He gave Michael another stink eye.

                Dean placed his hands on his hips. “Besides using me and Sam as vessels and having a prized fight, how do you suggest we stop Lucifer?”

                Michael’s lips thinned in thought. “As mentioned since the dawn of humanity, God told me...”

                Dean rolled his eyes. He’s heard this speech before. “Did God really tell you? Did your Father actually sit you down and say, “Buddy, you’re going to kill your brother someday.”?”

                “God told me through the mouths of Men and our prophesized books.”

                Dean’s brows rose. “Excuse me?”

                “Heaven is betting on this fight because of word through the grapevine?” Sam said, aghast.

                Bobby took his cap off and tossed it onto the book he’d been reading earlier. “Heaven is run by idjits.”

                Michael bristled. “Heaven is run by loyal daughters and sons.”

                When did they start bickering all the time like grumpy old men, Dean wondered. Granted, Bobby is one, and Michael has been around thousands times longer, so that makes him a grumpier old man. He ran his fingers through his hair. “There won’t be a heaven if Lucifer gets his way,” Dean said.

                Bobby gestured to Michael. “Aside from what your precious daddy said, is there anything else you picked up on?”

                Michael tilted his head to the side. “I am afraid I did not seek out any other answers.”

                “Of course not,” Sam muttered under his breath.

                “Have you heard anything on the Righteous Man?” Bobby asked.

                Dean’s muscles tightened.

                _Ba-bump. Ba-bump._

                Michael’s gaze landed on Dean.  “Why, yes. I was the one who ordered my garrison to lay siege to Hell in order to prevent the Righteous Man from breaking the first seal.”

                Bobby’s eyes narrowed. “And the first seal that was broken, princess?”

                “It was known that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell.”

                Crap on all that was holy. Dean swallowed, waiting for them to figure it out. Damn, Michael. He’d wanted to avoid this conversation.

                Sam jolted, his eyes widened as his firing brain synapses made the connection. He spun to Dean. “You? It’s you? You broke the first seal?”

                Dean held up a hand. “Look, Sam…”

                Sam scoffed incredulously. “And you knew about it!” He got to his feet and approached Dean. “You gave me all that crap for breaking the final seal…”

                Dean rose to a standing position, poking a finger at Sam. “You were hopped up on demon blood, Sam! You trusted Ruby...”

                “She manipulated me.”

                “She didn’t force you to drink the demon blood. You did that of your own accord.”

                “You weren’t there! I was saving people, Dean! And I didn’t know I was breaking the seal...”

                “Neither did I!” Dean snapped. “How was I supposed to know that getting off my own rack in Hell was going to jump-start the apocalypse?” He turned away from Sam, memories of Hell slammed back into his mind. The heat, the pain, the fear…and the loneliness. “What do you want me to say? That it was your powers that broke the final seal…and it was my weakness that broke the first one?” Tears pricked at his eyes and Dean forced them back. Suck it up. Be a man. Own up to this. “What do you want to hear? That you were right about me?”

                He turned back to his little brother who features had softened. “I’m weak, Sam. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Guess I didn’t want to whine about it.”

                Sam winced. “I never meant that, Dean.”

                “Yeah…” Dean clenched his jaw. “Yeah, you did, Sam.”

                Maybe it was because Dean was the older brother. He’d shouldered Sam’s burdens, helped him with his psychic powers, helped him try to cut back on his demon powers, and sacrificed everything to protect Sam. And when Dean had the burdens of being tortured in hell…Sam didn’t want to hear it, saw it as Dean being weak. Sam was right. He had to be the strong, older brother. Since he’d came back from hell, he failed in that. It seemed like Hell still had Dean in its grips and wasn’t letting him go.

                “Dean,” Bobby called out. “It wasn’t your fault. Both of you. You two were forced into a corner.”

                Dean sniffed. “Yeah. Well, what’s done is done. But I’ll tell you what I told Cas, I’m not the Righteous Man. Find someone else. It’s not me.”

                Michael stood quietly behind Bobby, like a spectator analyzing a breed of species he wasn’t familiar with.

                Sam looked like a kicked-puppy, like he wanted to say something more to Dean, but instead addressed the archangel. “What else do you know?”

                Bobby added to that. “It’s stated that the Righteous Man can end it. How?”

                Michael took a long look at Dean, confusion filtered through his features before he became stoic once more. “By being my vessel.”

                Was that a hint of doubt Dean heard lining Michael’s voice?

                “I believe it’s more than that,” Bobby said. He drummed his fingers against the book. “In this edition of the Bible, the Righteous Man is considered the Second Coming.”

                Sam placed his hands on his hips. “Wait, he’s considered the next Christ figure?”

                “Apparently, Christ was not always considered the son of God. He was deemed a true Servant of Heaven, one chosen by God,” Bobby explained. “At least, from what I’ve gathered from this.”

                “There is no second coming,” Michael suddenly said, his voice booming loud. “The Bible was written by men, not God. They’ve twisted the words of what the prophets have written.”

                “And where can we get out hands on what these prophets actually wrote?” Sam said. Nerd. Of course, he would want to get his hands on more research.

                “We have a library in Heaven, I shall find these books at once.” He disappeared without another word. Angels don’t have any etiquette for goodbyes, do they?

                Dean sighed. Back to square one.

                He caught Bobby’s strong gaze and shifted under it. “Relax, Bobby. I’m not the Righteous Man. Trust me.”

                Sam avoided looking at him, he went back to his desk, his shoulders hunched over as he brooded in thought.

                “I’m not,” Dean stressed through gritted teeth.

                Bobby gave a shrug. “Oh, I don’t know…from what I’ve read, I think you’re more like him than you realize.”

                Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Keep an eye on Cas, I’m going to lug in your other books. We need to find a way to stop Pestilence and Death, they’re still a threat.”              

                He banged the door open and stepped out into the morning air, making his way to Bobby’s storage as he maneuver throughout the maze of cars in the man’s junkyard. They can keep working on the Righteous Man angle, maybe they’ll find something else.

                Dean was going to hunt down Pestilence and Death. He made a vow that he was going to stop the Horsemen, that he kick the devil’s ass and prevent the death of millions of people by not saying yes.

                He would up hold those vows, by God, he will.

                If he can say no to his destiny of being Michael’s angel condom, than he can say no to this so-called crap of being the Righteous Man.

                


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You screwed up killing Lucifer with the Colt. Why should I join alongside with you? What do you have to offer me?”  
> “That’s what it all boils down to, isn’t it?” Dean said. “What you get out of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're still reading. You rock! Thank you for being so patient with me while I update this! :)

**Chapter Three**

* * *

 

_“Every soldier must know, before he goes into battle, how the little battle he is to fight fits into the larger picture, and how the success of his fighting will influence the battle as a whole”—Bernard Law Montgomery_

* * *

 

     They would kill him if they knew he was doing this. Hell, maybe it was his desperation finally reaching its breaking point. Out on a beer run, Dean had told them. Cas was still out cold, and Sam was still giving him the cold shoulder. So there was no sense in sticking around. He left Bobby and Sam to their Righteous Man research.

     Dean suspected Pestilence and Death both still had a role to play in Lucifer’s big plan, and that finding them may lead him to Lucifer. Yet, all Dean was able to scrounge up on them was their blood type and favorite hobby. Nothing to indicate how to track them down. He even tried doing it the old-school way. Paper trails and a map. He didn’t get very far with Pestilence. He ended up tracking the Horseman down to some clinic in Dearborn, Michigan before the trail went cold.  As for Death, that bastard was everywhere. How could you pinpoint Death when people were dropping like flies all over the fricken map?

     One thing War and Famine both had in common besides that they were brothers was this: demons. Well, War created delusions of demons, and maybe he didn’t have a horde like Famine did because he was so damn arrogant. The common factor between the two horsemen were demons.

     “This is a new low for you, Winchester,” Dean muttered as he lit the match. He dropped it into the summoning bowl and it sparked into a puff of flames before it sputtered out. Dean rose to his feet, waiting.

     “People don’t use the bloody phones anymore, do they?” the sharp Scottish accent pierced the room.

     Crowley adjusted the sleeve of his jacket suit as he cocked a brow at Dean.

     “Sorry, you’re not in the phone book,” Dean said.

     “Ah. Well, we can rectify that.” Crowley gestured down the devil’s trap. “I must admit, I don’t do bondage until the fourth date.”

     Dean chuckled in spite of himself. He walked around the trap as Crowley watched him closely. “I ought to kill you where you stand. The Colt didn’t work...”

     “Ah, so that’s what happened. I thought you morons bloody missed.”

     “We lost good people on that mission,” Dean growled.

     “Oh, piss on you. I’ve gone underground into hiding. I’ve lost loyal followers. Hell is in disarray, they burned down my house, and ate my TAILOR!”

     “Is this the part where I’m supposed to feel sorry for you? Sorry, pal, I’m not going to act out that script,” Dean said.

     Crowley scoffed. “No. You’re just trying to figure out a way to use me. Fair warning. I don’t play well with others.”

     “You said you had followers,” Dean said,

     “Did I?”

     Dean rolled his eyes. “How loyal are they?”

     “Lucifer may have his doted obsessive fans, but that’s all he has...blind obedience. As King of the Crossroads, I may have secured some loyal knights of the roundtable, you may say.”

     “You trust them?”

     “Have I taught you nothing?”

     Dean smiled. He remembered what Crowley said when they first met. “Right, don’t trust anyone.”

     Crowley snapped his fingers. “Good to see you’re not just another pretty face.”

     Dean glared. He hated how everyone always said that. “Are you planning to hide under the rock during the end of the world?”

     “And what does a mudmonkey like you want from me? I thought demons were beneath you.”

     “It’s end times. You’re either on Lucifer’s side, or not.”

     “Alliance against a common enemy. Like I asked. What do you want from me?”

     Which was more important? Lucifer or the Horsemen? Looks like Dean is going to have to start big. “Any other ideas on how to stop Lucifer?”

     “I was betting on the Colt, but it looks like the house won. Other ideas, though, hmmm, here’s a thought: he’s a BLOODY ANGEL!”

     Dean’s brows raised.

     “Since the dawn of time, the only thing that can kill another angel is an angel. So I suggest you strap Michael on and go kill the petulant child!”

     “And roast half the planet?” Dean growled.

     “Meh, half of them are already going to hell anyway.”

     “Yeah, well, I’m sure you like habiting this planet better than the sweat box downstairs.”

     Crowley pursed his lips. “Valid point.”

     Why did he summon this ass of a demon? It felt like all they were doing was beating around the bush.

     “I’ll find a way to stop Lucifer. I just need you to help me find him,” Dean said.

     “I’m not the only one who’s gone underground. Satan is making his Horsemen do his work for him because he’s having issues with trying not to blow up his vessel. I have word that Lucifer is plotting a dark scheme.”

     “You let me worry about that. Can you find him?” Dean pressed.

     Crowley cocked his head. “You screwed up killing Lucifer with the Colt. Why should I join alongside with you? What do you have to offer _me?”_

     “That’s what it all boils down to, isn’t it?” Dean said. “What you get out of it.”

     “Demon. It’s in the job description.”

     Naturally. Why was Dean here? What in hell propelled Dean to summon Crowley? Sure, the King of Crosswords could get closer to Lucifer than the rest of them.

     “Lucifer’s head on a spike,” Dean declared. “And you’ll become the new King of Hell.”

     Crowley raised both his brows. “Interesting. So certain are you, young Skywalker.”

     Dean smirked. “Trust me. I hold to my promises. I vowed to kill Yellow-Eyes, and I did. I told Zach-the-douche-angel, I was going to stab in the face, and I did. I told Lucifer I was going to squash him like a cockroach, and I will.”

     Crowley mirrored Dean’s expression. “Is that so?” He narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge what he could out of Dean.

     Dean just waited.

     “There’s something about you…” Crowley muttered. He shrugged. “Maybe I have a thing for squirrels. They are playful little buggers.”

     Dean grumbled.

     “Until Lucifer is no longer an issue, I supposed we could play nice.”

     Dean pulled a knife from his pocket, to scrap the orange paint of the devil’s trap. “I suppose we can.”

* * *

 

     Bobby handed Sam a bottle of pissed-down beer. The kid mumbled a thanks, eyes not leaving the page. Bobby scanned over it as he took a sip of the beer Sam had brought weeks ago. He winced. He liked heavy liquor more than beer, but he’d take what he could get. Seems like the Winchesters always cleared out Bobby’s liquor cabinet. He furrowed his brows. Sam was still stuck on the same page as a half hour ago.

     He rolled his wheelchair forward so that he could face Sam. “You’ve been quiet since Michael left.”

     Bobby was still on edge. He checked his angel-proofing of the house, but he’s not sure if he got it right. He didn’t want Michael coming back without their permission. He didn’t like Dean leaving the house all of a sudden. There was still that crazed look in the boy’s eyes, like when he’d been itching to say yes to Michael a few days ago.

     Sam turned to Bobby, conflicted. Finally, he spoke his mind. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother, but do you believe that Dean could be the righteous man?”

     “I can see it,” Bobby said. “But our definition of righteous may be different than what our research indicates, or hell, what God means it to be.”

     “It’s just...Dean’s so self-righteous.”

     “We all act self-righteous,” Bobby gruffed out. “You had a self-righteous phase not so long ago, with the demon blood...” And he didn’t necessarily agreed with how Sam treated Dean, then again, Bobby didn’t know how to deal with Dean’s trauma in hell.

     He knew the boy still had nightmares about it. Dean obviously suffered PTSD, and he had no idea how to help the boy.

     “No, I mean, he always believes he’s right and...”

     “Hold on, there’s a difference in believing you’re right and acting that you’re right.”

     Sam’s mouth worked and his brows creased. “What, Bobby?”

     He chuckled. “Your daddy...most self-righteous man I’ve ever met. It was his way or the highway.”

     Sam scoffed. “Don’t I know that.”

     “John was very narrow-minded. Once he had his head wrapped around something, there was no talking them out of it. He firmly believed everything he did was the right thing, that he never committed any errors. Toward the end, he started to express some regret in how he treated you boys...”   

     Too little, too late.

     “Dean sticks to his guns because he’s afraid he’s wrong. You take away hunting, you take away you, Sam, and what are you left with? Who is Dean?”

     Sam was quiet, yet Bobby could see the wheels turning in his head.

     “At Dean’s heart, he’s a caretaker. John used Dean’s heart against him,” Bobby writhed his hands, “maybe not intentionally, but he did.”

     Bobby had caught many moments of a young Dean caring for his father after a hunt, caring for Sammy. John placed way too much on Dean’s shoulder. After losing his mother in a traumatic death, a four-year-old Dean had to raise Sam and himself, had to take care of a father hell-bent on revenge. John manipulated Dean to be the perfect, obedient soldier.

     He’d never tell Sam, but it was actually Dean who fought with John to ensure Sam stayed a kid as long as possible. It was the reason why Sam was kept in the dark, and even when Sam found out, Dean was still adamant about it.

     “Dean sticks to your father’s ideals because he doesn’t know who he is. He’s only known what he’s told to be.”

     Sam glanced down at his hands. “I always wondered how Dean would’ve turned out...if Mom never died, if he didn’t have to raise me.”

     “I think he would’ve treated you more like an equal,” Bobby said.

     Sam shot his gaze up to Bobby. “You think?”

     “The way Dean treats you now? As an extremely over-protective parent. He sees you as someone he must protect at all cost, because that’s what he was raised to do.”

     “A child soldier,” Sam muttered. “We studied the psychology effects on them in one of my criminal classes at school. I never thought to apply them to Dean...I feel terrible, Bobby, about how I treated him after he came back from Hell. I didn’t know how to help him, so I thought becoming stronger so that he didn’t have to take care of me would...” Tears prickled Sam’s eyes. “Did anybody ever care for him, like Mom used to?”

     “Yeah.” Bobby stole a glance at Castiel, watching the rise and fall of the angel’s chest. “Yeah. I’m sure someone did. Besides, that idjit had us.”

     Sam smiled at that, though it didn’t quite reach his cheeks.  “Yeah, I’m not so sure he has me. I’ve really let him down. I was pissed when he told me he couldn’t trust me, like when has he ever, but I think I get it now.”

     Bobby loved Sam and Dean like sons, it’d hurt to see a crack in the boys’ relationship. He knew it could be mended, but it was going to take a lot of effort. He thought back to the spiraling events that led to Sam killing Lilith.

     _Dean looked so dejected, lost. “Sam’s gone. He’s gone. I’m not even sure if he’s still my brother anymore. If he ever was.”_

     Bobby winced at what his reaction was, sweeping the books and papers off his desk. He had advanced onto Dean who suddenly stood from the chair in shock.

     _“You stupid, stupid son of a bitch. Well, boo hoo. I’m so sorry your feelings are hurt, princess. Are you under the impression that family's supposed to make you feel good?! Make you an apple pie, maybe? They're supposed to make you miserable! That's why they're family!”_

     Back then, it was the right thing to say. He’d been worried about Sam and he knew Dean would be the only person who could reach the boy. He had told Dean that he was a better man than John, and he meant it, he still did. But Bobby couldn’t help but feel like John in that moment, telling Dean to choose Sam over his own well-being, as always.

     For once, Bobby would like Dean to choose himself first.

     Yet he knew that Dean’s heart wouldn’t let him.

* * *

 

     Dean shifted in his chair, trying to get into a comfortable position with both his legs resting at the bottom of

Castiel’s bed.

     Bobby had retired for the night, in a bed he kept in the guest room since he lost use of his legs. Dean remembered bringing a bed down for Bobby and making a room up for him after that day, he’d done it when Bobby was out because no way was his surrogate father going to let Dean do him a favor like that without pitching a fit.

     He and Sam had bolted out of the house when Bobby came home, and he heard the sounds of “idjits” being screamed when they high-tailed out in the Impala.

     Sam now rested upstairs. Dean had forced his brother to sleep. There was no need to push themselves to the point where they were too tired to take on the devil.

     Why Dean hadn’t take up his own advice? He wanted to be here if...no, when Cas woke up. He owned Castiel that much. The dumbass nearly sacrificed himself again for Dean. That was twice now.

     Dean grumbled. Fuck this. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep. He swept his legs and got back onto his feet. He headed into the kitchen, grabbing a beer out of the fridge.

     He couldn’t believe he aligned himself with Crowley. He berated Sam for trusting Ruby and working with her! He twisted the bottle cap off and tossed it into the trash by the door. Then again, it wasn’t like he trusted Crowley. He took a swig of beer. Despite how much Dean hated their kind, Crowley was kind of funny. How low had Dean fallen to think a demon...

     Dean was suddenly slammed against the wall. The beer bottle smashed to the ground, liquid pouring through the cracks. His widened eyes took in Castiel before him, who held an angel blade to Dean’s throat, glaring at him with such intensity.

     In a deep, low threatening voice, Castiel snarled, “Get out of him, Michael, or I swear, what Lucifer has in mind for you is nothing compared to what I’ll do.”

     “Cas...” The pressure increased against Dean’s throat. He dared not swallowed. Instead, he stared at Castiel, praying that he got the hint.

     Castiel glowered, unwavering. His features slowly softened before it morphed into confusion. “Dean?” he questioned in a gravelly voice.

     “Yeah,” Dean squeaked out.

     Castiel stepped back, lowering the blade. He sighed in relief. “You didn’t say yes?”

     Dean rubbed his neck. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

     Castiel glanced around the dark kitchen, moonlight pouring in through window. “I sense Michael’s grace.”

     “He, uh, from my understanding, he healed you.”

     “He has a vessel?”

     “Adam...”

     Castiel nodded. “You didn’t get to him in time.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Dean.”

     Oh, well, this was awkward. Did he have to explain the whole story?

     Castiel wavered on his feet, and blinked rapidly.

     Dean steadied him. Who was he kidding? This was Cas, he deserved to know everything. “I think you were right to, Cas.”

     He guided the angel back to the bed and sat him down. Then he proceeded to tell Castiel everything that happened. When he finished recounting the deal he made with Michael, Castiel’s immediately narrowed his gaze.

     “I don’t like this,” he said.

     Shocker. “At least we have Michael on our side for now.”

     “He’s only humoring you, Dean. In this mind, he believes he’s already won. You said yes.”

     And there it was again...the look of defeat. Cas really lost faith in him, didn’t he? Dean glanced back at the fallen beer bottle on the floor in the kitchen. Oh, he needed something stronger now.

     “You...you mentioned that Bobby and Sam found another way to stop the apocalypse.”

     Dean hissed in a sharp breath. “You already know what they found.”

     Brows burrowed deeper and Castiel tilted his head to the side. “I do?”

     “The Righteous Man?”

     Cas closed his eyes and sank further into the bed. “You didn’t want that burden, Dean. So I never pressed.”

     “So, it’s true?”

     Castiel opened his eyes and pondered. “Do you have the blade you killed Zachariah with you?”

     Dean pulled it out of his sleeve and wondered how the hell it kept ending up back in there.

     Castiel inspected it. “You killed the Whore...” he muttered. “You were immune to Famine and...I wonder...”

     “What, Cas?”

     “I believe perhaps the breaking of the final seal awoke your inner powers.”

     “Powers?” Dean scoffed, grabbing the blade back from Castiel. “I have no powers, Cas. That’s all Sam!”

     Castiel growled. “Still no faith in yourself?”

     “Don’t pull that on me!” Dean stood and turned his back on the angel. “You lost faith in me, so you know I’m not worthy.”

     Castiel sighed behind him. “Dean...this could be a good thing.”

     “What?” he spun back to Castiel. “What is? Being a hammer?”

     He blinked in surprise when Castiel laughed and it reminded him so much of that 2014 future...of Castiel’s broken and stoned laugh. His heart twisted. He did that to Castiel. He broke him.

     “You are not a hammer,” Castiel said. “You are righteous. You put others before yourself, I’ve seen you in your element, Dean. You’re judge, jury, and executioner. It’s so clear now. You’re the only one who can finish it.”

     “Stop it, Cas! Don’t put me on a pedestal. I’m not him.”

     In the same threatening tone that he used when he threatened to throw Dean back to hell, he said, “You are, Dean. Why can’t you see your own worth? I rebelled for you...”

     Dean winced.

     Castiel’s tone softened. “I didn’t say for you to feel guilt. I...You showed me that I’m much more than a hammer, Dean. I rebelled because you showed me my own worth.”

     Dean looked at Castiel who held his gaze in earnest. He meant that. And there it was...that look of hope again in Castiel’s eyes.

     Castiel rose to his feet, anger and hatred settling into his features. “Michael,” he growled.

     Dean turned. He didn’t sense Michael that time.

     “You’re awake, brother.” Michael inspected Castiel like he was a vermin. “Just to remind you, I only healed you because it was my intended vessel’s wish.”

     “Hey!” Dean jabbed a finger at Michael. “Don’t speak to Cas like that.”

     Next to him, Castiel struggled to hide a smirk.

     Dean resisted to roll his eyes at that. “So...” he gestured to Michael. “Find anything useful upstairs?”

     “All the books on the Righteous Man has been destroyed,” Michael said.

     The tension in Dean’s shoulders released. Good. They can find another way.

     “So I sought out Joshua, and Father had a message for me.”

     A flicker of hurt crossed Castiel’s eyes. Dean resisted to reach out and comfort him. God was a dick.

     “He told me that I should take example from Castiel.”

     Dean grinned. “I have to agree with your dad on this one.”

     “I’ve only ever been the most obedient son. I’ve done everything he’s ever asked. He told me I had to kill my brother. I’m only doing His will!”

     “Maybe you should start doing your will...” Dean mumbled.

     “I’m sorry, Michael. I lost faith in Father long ago,” Castiel said.

     “I won’t end up like you,” Michael snarled.

     “Watch it,” Dean warned.

     Michael scoffed. “Then Joshua handed me a book. One he safeguard all these years.” He pulled out a cream-covered leather book from behind his back. Gold symbols etched in the front. Enochian.

     “What’s it called? How not to be an angel douchebag?” Dean asked.

     “The Trials of the Righteous Man,” Castiel read.

     “What?”

     “And it’s you, Dean Winchester,” Michael said.

     The muscles in his shoulders wound up once more. “No. Come on. It’s some other sucker.”

     “You’ve already completed the first trial in this book,” Michael said.

     “Which was what? Breaking the first seal?” Dean spat out bitterly.

     “No. The man will begin his path onto righteousness when an angel surrenders the wings of Heaven to the will of freedom.”

     Dean and Castiel shared an intense look.

     “What?” he hissed.

     “Your relationship with Castiel was the first trial,” Michael said. “That’s why you’ve begun to tap into your powers. It is you, Dean Winchester. This is the destiny that you must fulfill.”

    

    


End file.
